


all my own in a big red bow

by caravanslost



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Footy Secret Santa, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravanslost/pseuds/caravanslost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Christmas trees have presents underneath them. Others have Sergio Ramos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all my own in a big red bow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [Footy Secret Santa](http://footy_ssanta.livejournal.com/). Thanks to the mods of that community for organizing the challenge - it's a splendid idea <3
> 
> And thanks to [starscry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starscry/pseuds/starscry) for such a wonderful prompt. I had a whole heap of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. Neither Sergio Ramos nor Iker Casillas are my own.

Within moments of stepping through the front door, Iker knew that something was up.

He knew that Sergio was home, because Sergio himself had called him and told him to come back. But the lights were off, and the house was almost silent, and Sergio did neither darkness nor quiet. That was the first sign.

Iker closed the front door behind him and locked it. He stood for a few moments in the darkened entranceway, focusing hard and straining his ears for any signs of life, or sound, or Sergio. Nothing came. He took his scarf off, his coat, and his shoes, and sighed. An untrained eye and an untrained ear might have mistakenly assumed that Sergio was asleep, or out, but Iker knew better. He resigned himself to the fact that something was up.

He was about as skilled at predicting the content of Sergio’s surprises as he was when they first got together – which was to say, that Iker was not very good at all. However, he had developed an intuition for sensing _when_ something was going on, although he was never sure what it would be, or when it would strike.

And Sergio, bless him, took an almost villanious delight in Iker’s reactions. More than anyone, Sergio knew how Iker felt about surprises, and a part of Iker suspected that this was why Sergio continued to bombard him with them. Sergio liked to say that he was spontaneous. Iker liked to remind him that he was a giant, ginger, smiling asshole.

Iker began making his way through the house. He walked to the lounge first and stood in the middle of the room, looking around, but there was no sign of Sergio. The eight foot tree, however, was in full display, a spectacle of fairy lights. Sergio thought it was magical. Iker thought it was an electricity company's wet dream - but even he had to concede that it looked pretty.

When they had put it up, Sergio had begn decorating it alone. He had, quite intentionally, arranged the lights and tinsel in such a haphazard manner that he knew Iker would be distressed enough to intervene, which he had, to Sergio’s unbridled glee. Iker had to admit that he had fun doing it, too. He had never been the sort of person with a natural wellspring of Christmas cheer, and nor could he summon it on demand. But Sergio knew Iker from cover to cover, and he knew how to tease out his interest in almost anything. Iker was happy enough to be led. Even if he would admit it only begrudgingly.

The fairy lights danced, and they were so bright that it was almost difficult to tell that the room lights were off. A small mountain-range of presents – from the two of them to each other, as well as from their friends and families – had accumulated at its foot. Iker noted that the pile was also distinctly larger than it had been that morning.

Iker had always liked Christmas, but his fondness for the season paled in comparison to Sergio’s. At Sergio's insistence, they had erected no less than four trees in the house. One was in the lounge, one was in the kitchen, one was in the guest bedroom where guests would be staying for a few days over the new year, and one was in their bedroom. Christmas lights festooned every spare metre of wall. Even in the dead of the night, most corners of the house glowed a faint red from all the lights.

Iker sighed and made his way upstairs. Finally, on the upstairs landing, came a sign of life. Somewhere down the long corridor, from which the other rooms of the house branched out, Iker picked up the faint sound of music. He walked further along the corridor towards their bedroom, and the music became louder. Outside their bedroom door, Iker paused for a moment. He could make out the genre (flamenco, of course, like it was ever going to be anything else), and a few of the lyrics. Sergio was most definitely inside.

Iker paused for a moment, hand on the doorknob. This had all the hallmarks of one of Sergio’s Big Romantic Gestures.

He entered the bedroom, and as he expected, the lights were off. In their place, a roaring fire burned in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows onto the rest of the room. Sergio had arranged an array of candles on the desk, the bedside tables, the windowsills, and every single other flat surface. They contributed little by way of light, but they filled the room with the heady scent of vanilla and cedar. And on the small table to Iker’s right, near the entrance of the room, was a bucket of ice. It housed the expensive champagne that Cristiano had gifted them several months beforehand, and next to it were two of their best champagne flutes.

More interesting, however, was what waited for him on the floor.

Namely Sergio, lounging on the ground near the foot of the Christmas tree. He wore his black silk pyjama bottoms, a black v-neck, and the shit-eating grin he reserved for moments when he was particularly pleased with himself.

There was a bow around his waist too – _an actual bow, for christ’s sake, what is this_ , Iker thought to himself – but Iker suspected that he would find out about it soon enough. The bow was big, and red, and it was conspicuous enough that it was bound to come up in conversation sooner rather than later.

It was also immaculately tied. Iker wondered how many attempts it had taken Sergio to perfect it. He suspected that a Youtube video had been consulted at some stage.

Meanwhile, Sergio beamed at the sight of Iker. He always beamed at the sight of Iker, of course, but now more so than usual. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, as though presenting the room to Iker, and he cocked an eyebrow.

“Well? Are you impressed or are you impressed, Casillas?”

“It's all very pretty.” Iker conceded, undoing his tie and laying it along the back of the nearest chair. He smiled wryly at Sergio. “For a fire hazard, of course. You certainly went all out, didn’t you?”

“Please. I spared you. I was this close to laying a path of rose petals from the stairs to the bed just to piss you off. Count yourself lucky.”

Iker laughed. He sat down on the chair and undid the cuffs of his shirt, rolling the sleeves back to his elbows. He leaned back against the chair, his muscles thankful for the rest after a long day, and for he first time since that morning, he felt himself begin to relax. Or maybe the candles had worked their magic.

He regarded Sergio with a fond curiosity. “That's an unusual show of restraint on your part.”

“Only because I couldn't arrange enough roses in time. But there's always next year. You wait.”

“You’re not drunk by any chance, are you?”

“I’m dry as a desert, but hopefully not for much longer. That goes for you too.” He said, nodding at the bottle of champagne to Iker’s right. “Feel free to crack that bottle open, by the way.”

Iker wasn't about to argue with that. He moved to the table and reached for the chilled silver bottle of Dom Perignon. He peeled the foil seal off very slowly, unscrewed the wire cage at the top, and popped open the bottle. The cork fell to the floor with a muffled thud, and Iker poured generously for the two of them. He offered one flute to Sergio before taking his own and returning to his chair.

The first taste landed like heaven on his tongue. He would have to make sure to thank Cris later.

“Y’know, I had been saving this for a special occasion.” He said playfully.

“What do you think this is? And the best part is that now, we don’t have to waste the champagne on anyone else, either.”

Iker figured that this would be as good a segue as any.  He wiggled his index finger in the general direction of Sergio’s midriff.

“So. There’s a bow wrapped around you.”

Sergio looked very pleased with himself again. “Keenly observed.”

“What's it for?”

“Guess.” He replied, shaking his head. “You’re not getting it out of me that easily.”

“Or,” Iker suggested lightly, “you could just tell me.”

“Not a chance.”

Iker narrowed his eyes and pretended to think hard for a moment. He knew what his guess was going to be – he had guessed as soon as he had walked in the room, in fact - but he deliberately avoided saying it quickly for the pleasure of watching Sergio fidget impatiently on the floor. Sergio felt about patience the way Iker felt about surprises, and Iker derived an obscene amount of enjoyment from making him wait.

“Let's see.” Iker began, running a hand through his hair. “You're wrapped up in a bow. You're sitting under a Christmas tree. And you're trying to get me drunk.”

“Nothing gets past you. And your conclusion?”

“You’re a present, aren’t you?”

Sergio smiled slyly and raised his glass in Iker’s direction, as though to toast him. “Correct. Anything else?”

“You’re _my_ present, right?”

“Correct again.” Sergio replied, before taking another sip of his champagne. “Full marks, Iker.”

A deep warmth began washing over Iker’s body, and it had nothing to do with either the crackling fireplace or the alcohol seeping its way into his bloodstream. Iker never forgot how he felt about Sergio, but there were moments when his feelings hit him more acutely than others. This was one of them. He drank in the sight of him because Sergio was _his_ , and because he could, and because for once, they had all the time in the world to themselves.

Sergio eyed him back playfully. He revelled in this kind of attention, and wore quite a smile on those full lips.

All Iker wanted to do was to join him on the floor and kiss him breathless. But that was probably what Sergio wanted, and Iker wasn't going to make it quite that easy for him.

Instead, he raised an eyebrow and regarded Sergio with mock seriousness.

“Aren't Christmas presents supposed to be opened on Christmas morning?”

“You're allowed to open a little present the night before.”

Iker couldn’t resist a smile. Perhaps there was a universe in which Sergio could be described as little – but this one sure as hell wasn't it.

“So if you're my present – and I presume that you’re my present for one reason only – how come you’re wearing clothes?”

“Because a gift is always wrapped.” Sergio replied. “What kind of philistine gives an unwrapped gift?”

“Point taken.” Iker replied. He waved his hand up and down in Sergio’s general direction. “But does it have to be wrapped in quite so many … layers?”

Sergio knocked back the last of his drink and placed the flute on the floor next to him. There was now something distinctly invitational in his gaze.

“Half the fun is unwrapping the present, Iker.” He teased. “And if there are too many layers for your liking, you're welcome to rip them off.”

“Ah, see, that's not me. I like taking my time. I've always been the type to slowly unwrap a present and fold the wrapping paper away.”

“That’s because you're no fun. Me? I've never had patience for that sort of thing.”

_I know you don’t_ , Iker thought to himself. He had lost several buttons on several good shirts to that particular philosophy.

“I'll tell you what's fun.” He said instead. “Fun is a present that's going to unwrap itself for me.”

Iker drained his drink and returned the flute to the table with a loud _clink_. He moved from the chair to the bed and leaned back on his hands. Sergio’s gaze followed him, but he didn’t immediately shift from the floor.

“And what are you going to do?” Sergio asked.

“I’m going to watch you.”

At that, Sergio got up and moved to stand in front of Iker. With one hand, he toyed with the string at the hip of his pyjama bottoms, winding it loosely around his index finger before letting it go. His thumb hooked genttly inside the waistband, as though he was preparing to pull it down.

Sergio waggled an eyebrow. “So. If you’re going to watch - should I dance for you as well?”

Iker wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“That depends. Is it going to get your clothes off any faster?”

“Probably not.”

“Then no. Don’t dance.” Iker smiled.

“Okay. Grab the end of the bow”

“What?’

“Just do it. Grab the end of the bow, and pull it towards you.”

Iker did as he was told. The bow came apart at once, and the ribbon fell to the floor slowly, like a feather.

Iker tried not to look too impressed, and failed miserably. He knew he had failed because the smugness in Sergio’s expression told him so.

And then Sergio – who never waited, who ripped the wrapping off his presents, and the clothes off Iker – began ridding himself of his clothing without delay. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it playfully at Iker’s face. Iker didn’t catch it in time.

“A half-decent goalie would have seen that coming a mile away.” Sergio teased.

Iker waved away the jest with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Less talking, more naked.”

Sergio hooked his thumbs inside the waistline of his pants and pulled them downwards. He kicked them off his feet and then kicked them again to the side, banishing them near his t-shirt. He stretched momentarily, and the lean, firm muscles of his upper body came into sharp focus.

Maybe it was the heady, heavy scent of the candles in the air; or maybe the alcohol was stronger, and kicking in much quicker than either of them anticipated. Either way, Iker felt strange, almost a little lightheaded, but in a pleasant sort of way. A sense of anticipation mounted in him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt for some time. They had been too busy – to eat, to sleep, to properly be in each other’s company – but now they had the whole night to themselves, and a slew of nights to follow as well.

Shadows flickered against Sergio’s broad chest in the semi-darkenss. He arched in front of Iker, and Iker found himself battling the urge to reach out and touch him. All he wanted to do was to pull him in, to feel the familiar warmth and contours of his body, but Sergio, being Sergio, didn’t give him time.

Sergio stepped a little closer to Iker and reached out to him. He tilted Iker’s face up, brushing a thumb along his bottom lip.

“So.” Iker said quietly.

“So.”

 “This present of mine.” Iker began, looking up at him with as much reverence as desire. “What exactly does it do?”

“Whatever you want it to do.”

Iker took Sergio’s hand, kissed his palm, and pulled him closer. Sergio climbed onto his lap with practised ease, because if they had done this once, they had done it a hundred thousand times. Sergio wrapped both arms around Iker’s neck and brought their faces close together, forehed to forehead. Iker’s hands snaked their way around Sergio’s hips.

“I know you don’t like surprises,” Sergio told him fondly, “but I figured you’d be okay with this one.”

Iker smiled and his grip tightened possessively. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Sese.”

“You don’t.”

“Hey.” Iker scoffed, feigning protest. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been an awfully good boy this year.”

“Yeah, well, let’s see if we can ruin that, hmm?”

Sergio cupped Iker's face in his hands but Iker moved first, and he pressed a melting kiss into Sergio’s lips. The slow pace of it stirred a low murmur from Sergio, who kissed back with a greater sense of urgency. Sergio had never been a great believer in delayed gratifictation.

Iker’s hands began to roam along Sergio’s warm skin. They travelled up his chest, along his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms. The routes were well worn but Iker never tired of revisiting them, and he never tired of the way Sergio arched into his touch. It was both a reacquaintance and a statement of possession, a _you’re mine_. In turn, Sergio's hands moved down the buttons of Iker’s shirt, undoing them one by one. Iker shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and leaned forward to close what little space remained between them.

Skin to skin, Iker's kisses grew hungrier, meeting Sergio’s pace and then surpassing it. Iker undid his own belt. He added it to the growing mountain of clothes on the floor while Sergio took care of the zipper and button.

“Get – on – the bed.” Iker said, the fragments of the instruction coming out whenever Sergio allowed him a moment to breath.

Sergio pulled his lips away and eyed Iker, his chocolate eyes bright, his pupils dilated already. “But I was going to –”

“ _My_ present, right?” Iker interrupted, reminding him.

“Well, yeah.”

“Then let me. Just let me touch you.”

Sergio stole one final kiss from him before shifting off Iker’s lap and moving next to him. Iker stood up, got rid of his jeans quickly, and moved to the foot of the bed in front of Sergio.

“Lie back.” Iker told him.

Sergio did as he was told, although he propped himself up on his elbows so that he could look at Iker.

Iker climbed onto the bed and over Sergio, and because he could, he sunk his teeth into the flesh between Sergio’s neck and shoulder. He felt the impulse to leave a mark on the skin and gave into it immediately. Sergio yelped in surprise and Iker laughed, because he relished that sound, and because taking Sergio by surprise was no easy feat.

As Iker’s aggression mounted, Sergio’s slowed down. He allowed himself to be kissed and caressed. Iker moved downwards, his lips tracing a route down Sergio’s body, over his chest and belly. Iker could tell that he was fighting the urge to close his eyes and tilt his head back, and he was winning that particular battle for now. He wouldn’t for much longer.

Iker firmly palmed the bulge in Sergio’s briefs and elicited the first breathless expletive of the night. He brushed the pad of his thumb over and round the tip, a layer of fabric between his skin and Sergio’s, and watched as Sergio’s elbows gave way under him. He fell back against the bed, and Iker continued to palm him until his hips began to roll upwards.

“ _Fuck_ , Iker –– ”

Iker began pulling down Sergio’s briefs, freeing his erection, and Sergio briefly raised his lower body so that Iker could get the last piece of clothing off fully. He took his own briefs off as well, kneeled on the floor, and without warning, took the tip of Sergio’s cock between his lips. Sergio’s lower body rose off the bed again, but this time the movement was involuntary.

Iker resolved to take his sweet, merry time. The image of Sergio in the midst of his arousal had an effect on Iker that was as potent as being touched.

He gripped Sergio and licked slow lines up and down the underside of his shaft, but nowhere else. Then he dragged his lips along those same lines, and Sergio’s hands were suddenly in Iker’s hair, tugging as though that would make Iker do something more, _anything_ more. Sergio’s cock twitched beneath Iker’s lips.

Iker curled his hand more tightly around Sergio, and dragged it upwards sharply, stopping just beneath the head. When he made no further movement, Sergio began thrusting desperately into his coiled fist.

Iker let him move, for a few moments, but then he completely let him go. Sergio let out a frustrated howl and it was music to Iker’s ears.

“Iker, _please_ –– ”

So Iker gripped him again, and traced the slit of his cock with the tip of his tongue. His lips parted around the head and took him in deeply, completely. Iker hummed, and Sergio writhed under the vibrations. He drew his lips upwards and let Sergio’s cock almost slide out of his mouth, and Sergio swore as slick flesh met cool air. He swore again when Iker’s mouth wrapped around him and took him in.

The sight of Sergio, the hoarse sounds he made, the way his fingers tangled in Iker’s hair– all of these things combined and sharpened the dull, needing ache between Iker’s legs into something more difficult to ignore. He touched himself as he took Sergio apart, but soon enough, he needed something more himself.

Iker let go of the two of them, and climbed onto the bed so that he could sieze a kiss or five from his lover. Their erections brushed and each of them groaned, curving forward towards the other’s hips. Sergio placed a hand at the small of Iker’s back, and without warning, flipped them so that Iker was the one on his back.

His lips moved to Iker’s ear, nipping roughly at the earlobe.

“Now, you let me.”

Iker arched against the bed like a cat in sunlight, his eyes closed as Sergio left him briefly and returned with supplies. Immediately, Sergio’s hands were all over him, and Iker allowed himself to be touched, to be kissed, to be fussed over. Sergio was a master of all three arts, and a dizzying mix of lust and affection for him welled in Iker’s chest.

Iker shuddered with waves of dull pleasure as Sergio brushed an exploratory thumb against his rim to prepare him. Iker bunched handfuls of sheets into his fists, waiting for the brief storm of pain before the calm and the pleasure, and he pulled upon the cotton as Sergio eased first his slick fingers, and then his cock, into him. Iker wrapped his legs around Sergio’s back and urged him nearer.

For a man who otherwise charged towards everything he wanted with all the patience of a bull before a red flag, Sergio's capacity for a slow pace at this particular stage never failed to overwhelm Iker into a frustrated mess. But what Sergio wouldn’t give him in pace, he made up for in tenderness, with gentle lips against his neck and soft gasps in his ear.

Sergio came first, hips bucking, and Iker followed him moments later, eyes closed but seeing stars.

Sergio pressed one final kiss into Iker’s mouth before rolling off him and reaching for a small towel to clean both of them off. He threw it on the floor, one final addition to their mountain of clothing, before covering them with a blanket and pulling Iker into him. They lay there in contented silence for a little while. Iker draw lazy circles on the warm skin of Sergio’s chest, and he had never felt more at peace with the world.

“So,” said Sergio, smiling sleepily. “Was that the best gift you've ever been given, or was that the best gift you've ever been given?”

Iker snorted and pressed his forehead against Sergio's collarbone. The thing he loved most about Sergio was his unwavering confidence. The thing he loved next about Sergio was his unwavering certainty in how much Iker adored him.

“I'll have to wait and see what else you got me tomorrow. Besides, you rigged the game, you asshole. You took your pants off.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Sergio responded, wrapping an arm around his waist and closing what little distance remained between them. “And if I recall correctly, you didn’t object.”

“Be that as it may. You’re still an asshole.”

Sergio fondly nuzzled the top of Iker’s head, giggling. “What did I do now?”

“It’s hardly a gift if it's already mine, is it?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and I'll probably bury my face in a cushion with glee for three days. Then I'll love you forever :3


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